Early in his investigations he abandoned hope of getting direct evidence against McDougall himself. That astute lawyer had been careful to have nothing whatever to do with actual bribery or corruption, and he was crafty enough to disassociate himself from direct dealing with agents. Indeed, Keith himself was in some slight doubt as to whether McDougall had any actual detailed knowledge of the underground workings at all. But McDougall's associates were a different matter. Here, little by little, real evidence began to accumulate, until Keith felt that he could, with reasonable excuse, move for an official investigation. To his genuine grief Calhoun Bennett seemed to be heavily involved. He could not forget that the young Southerner had been one of his earliest friends in the city, nor had he ever tried to forget the real liking he had felt for him. It was not difficult to recognize that according to his code Cal Bennett had merely played the game as the game was played, carrying out zealously the intentions of his superiors, availing himself of time-honoured methods, wholeheartedly fighting for his own side. Yet there could be no doubt that he had made himself criminally liable. Keith brooded much over the situation, but got nowhere, and so resolutely pushed it into the back of his mind in favour of the need of the moment. But quietly as he conducted his investigations, some rumour of them escaped. One afternoon he received a call from Bennett. The young man was evidently a little embarrassed, but intent on getting at the matter. "Look heah, Keith," he began, dropping into a chair, and leaning both arms on the table opposite Keith, "I don't want to say anything offensive, or make any disagreeable implications, or insult you by false suspicions, but there are various persistent rumours about, and I thought I'd better come to you direct." "Fire away, Cal," said Keith. "Well, it's just this: they do say yo're tryin' to fasten a criminal charge of bribery on me. You and I have been friends--and still are, I hope--but if yo're goin' gunnin' foh me, I want to know it." His face was slightly flushed, but his fine dark eyes looked hopefully to his friend for denial. Keith was genuinely distressed. He moved an inkwell to and fro, and did not look up; but his voice was steady and determined as he replied: "I'm not gunning for you, Cal, and I wish to heaven you weren't mixed up in this mess." He looked up. "But I _am_ gunning for crooked work in this Cora case!" Bennett took his arms from the table, and sat erect. "Do you mean to imply, suh, that I am guilty of crooked work?" he inquired, a new edge of formality in his voice. "No, no, of course not!" hastened Keith. "I hadn't thought of you in that connection! I am just looking the whole matter up----" "Well, suh, I strongly advise you to drop it," interrupted Bennett curtly. "But why?"